Crash And Born
by Anonymous15
Summary: Draco & Ginny - 2 extremes. People have sompared them to fire & ice. Will fire be able to melt ice?


**DISCLAIMER-**What can I say? Mine was not the brain, which created Harry Potter. J.K.Rowling is the wizard (witch, actually) behind HP. I'm only a poor, penniless, die-hard fan who thinks this is the closest she can come to having any claim on the Harry Potter characters. I don't own anything except the plot. *sobs*  
  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES-** I just wanted to say that, though the title is taken from a _Savage Garden_ song (yeah, I'm a fan) this is **not** a song-fic. There is no connection between the lyrics of the song and this story. Then why have I used it as a title? For want of a better one. Please bear with me.  
And yes, one more thing. Paragraphs headed by **'GINNY'** are written from Ginny's POV and same goes for **'DRACO'**  


CRASH AND BORN

  
  


**GINNY**

  
  
I sat on the lawn, watching my brothers and _Harry Potter_ playing _'Fly and Flee'_, an output of Fred and George's creativity. The rules of the game were very simple. All the players had to fly to the very top of a tree (selected at random by the referee) and as soon as they reached it, they had to flee, i.e fly away as fast as they could. The last person to reach the top became the catcher and had to catch all the others.   
  
This game became an instant hit and all day long we would be engaged in it, often fighting with the referee over who flew last and denying vociferously the charge that it was so & so who had been the last to reach the top of the tree.   
  
Initially (before _Harry_ and Hermione came over), I was an eager participant in the game and had even won a lot of times. But when _he_ came over, I bet that even a Dodo could have flown better than I did.   
  
Unable to bear my brother's taunts I switched over to being a referee. Naturally, _Harry_ won every time (with me as the referee, nobody else could possibly win) and I was blackballed from holding that position. So my next position was as a bystander, watching the game from the sidelines, with Hermione.  
  
Hermione had been persuaded (mainly by Ron) to join the game in the beginning, but had to give it up when it was borne in on her that if there was one thing she was not good at, it was flying.   
  
At first she had flown very well. So well indeed, that she was the 1st to reach the top. But then, instead of _'fleeing'_, she had chanced to look down and had immediately fainted. Apparently she suffered from fear of heights.   
  
Ron promptly flew towards her and caught her before she fell, thereby falling a prey to the twins' banter of him being Hermione's Knight in Shining Armour. They even sang a few ballads, which had us all (except Ron) rolling in laughter. Thankfully they kept their mouths shut in front of Hermione, who, I'm sure would not have appreciated their jests at all.   
  
From then on, there was a new light in her eyes while regarding Ron, and I was just hoping that something would develop between them, when Ron (who really could do with some lessons on girls and love) remarked teasingly, "Looks like there's one thing Miss Know-it-all Granger can't do, huh?"  
  
The sparks from Hermione's eyes indicated that she was on the warpath and poor clueless Ron just stood there wondering, '**Now** what did I do wrong?'  
  
Well, I think it just shows that the Weasleys aren't Romeos and Juliets when it comes to love, for I wasn't having exactly a ball trying to drum the fact into _Harry's_ thick skull that I wasn't as unsophisticated and gawky as I appeared.   
  
I had spent neary all my time before _Harry_ arrived, in practicing **not** to blush or stammer in his presence. I would stand in front of the mirror pretending that the 5 feet 3 inches red-headed freckled reflection was _Harry_.  
  
_"Hi Harry!"_ I said, trying to speak nonchalantly. _"How are you doing?"_ No, too much like Colin. _"Hi!"_ I tried again, giving what I hoped was a friendly, cheerful smile. I gagged at the reflection. After striking about 7 or 8 more poses, I decided to do it the natural way. Greet him as I would any of my brothers. It would be a cinch. But the problem was, it wasn't. Far from it really.  
  
The minute I saw _him_, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I glanced at the mirror in the Hall to make sure that the hair-style (which had taken an hour to achieve, even with the help of magic) was not coming out and to see to it that no tell-tale blush was creeping up my cheeks.   
  
_Harry_, Ron and Hermione walked in.  
  
"Hi Ginny!" said Hermione smiling.   
  
I smiled back, my smile perfectly natural and cheerful. Then I turned to greet _Harry_. He smiled at me. I felt the familiar blush creeping up. While silently cursing myself for having such a revealing face, I tried to respond to his greetings as naturally as I could. But I failed miserably. A barely audible murmur came out, followed by some nervous throat clearing and then an indistinguishable 'Hello'.   
  
I fled to the sanctuary of my room utterly despising myself. But I soon got a grip on myself and managed to string out two coherent sentences together without stammering even once.   
  
As days passed I grew used to having my 'idol' staying in the same house as me , and was soon laughing, talking and even teasing _him_ just as I used to, with my brothers.   
  
While _he_ was playing Quidditch, I used to sit and watch him. The sheer joy of flying was evident on his face, and it was equaled by my delight of watching him fly. He timed his movements with precision and his co-ordination was perfect. My eyes followed him, not missing a single move that he made. I soon came to be familiar with his every gesture. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners while searching for the Snitch, his hands gripping the broom tightly and his brows furrowed. He played with a single-minded determination that I admired. There was in fact nothing about him that I didn't admire. From the top of his untidy black hair to the tips of his worn out shoes.  
  
To me, he was a hero. _Harry Potter_, the Boy Who Lived. The Boy who had defeated The Dark Lord.  


**DRACO**

  
  
"Do you understand, Draco?" asked my father staring intently at me. His clear gray eyes, untouched by flecks of gold or silver met mine. Unblinkingly I stared back at him, and then nodded slowly.   
  
"Good," he said, though there was no sign of approbation either on his face or in his voice. "Now repeat what I've told you."  
  
I obediently recapitulated the instructions I'd been given.  
  
The following day was the Death Eater's reunion day and a party was being given in honour of the Dark Lord's rise back to power. It was the first celebration in 14 years after the Dark Lord's fall in power, and it was going to be a grand event. I had never seen my father in such a state of tension before, and the more nervous he was, the more short-tempered he became, trying to conceal his unease, and as a result, the people around him suffered. The house elves were made to do, undo and redo most of the decorations.  
  
_ "That, is **not** the picture I wanted put up at the entrance,"_ he had said last night, slapping a house-elf. He had then pointed his wand and said, _ "Morsmordre!"_  
  
A colossal skull composed of emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue emerged in a haze of thick green smoke. It hovered for a moment in the air, and then disappeared.  
  
_"**That** is how the picture should be,"_ he said.  
  
The house-elf whimpered and went to rectify the error.  
  
There were people moving in and around the house, some of them extra labourers hired for the party, but most of the others being father's Death Eaters friends. I could see fear and worry writ all over their faces. Evidently, it was not only the mud-bloods and other witches and wizards who feared the Dark Lord. Most of the Death Eaters too were terrified of him (God knows why they joined his side then), father being the only one who could conceal his anxiety.  
  
Though outwardly he remained calm, and pretended to despise those who were in dread of the Dark Lord, I could discern that he was just as apprehensive as the rest, more so, because the whole responsibility of running the party rested on his shoulders and God knows, the Dark Lord wasn't likely to be very merciful if things went awry.   
  
He had summoned me into his study in the morning and was engaged for nearly 3 hours in instructing me on how to conduct myself. I had to keep in mind the following-  
1) First and foremost, I was to wear dress robes.  
2) I was not to step out of my room until summoned.  
3) After receiving the summons, I was to enter the Great Hall and make my bow to the Dark Lord. (My father had taught me the exact depth I should bend and where my hands should be, while making the bow).  
4)After that I was to answer any questions put to me by the Dark Lord, (my father had coached me on introducing a tone of reverence and humility while speaking with the Dark Lord) and when finished, I was to make another deep bow and retreat to my room.  
  
As I finished repeating the instructions to him, a house-elf entered.   
  
"Master is wanted in the library," it said, bowing.  
  
"I'll come," said my father curtly.  
  
The house-elf bowed again and withdrew.  
  
"You've learnt the instructions well, Draco," he said, turning towards me. "I hope you will also put it in action properly. I am not likely to be lenient if you disgrace me in front of the Dark Lord."   
  
"I will conduct myself just as I ought, father," I said.  
  
He nodded, as if pleased with my ready complaisance. "You may go to your room now," he said.  
  
I walked out.  
  
  
  


**GINNY**

  
  
During lunch, the discussion, as always, came to Quidditch. I was sitting there, happily munching and staring at _Harry_ who was animatedly describing some Quidditch moves, when George suddenly said, "There is likely to be another Weasley in the Quidditch team this year, Harry." He gave me a wink.  
  
"Really?" asked Harry surprised. "Are you going to try?" he asked, turning towards me.   
  
I felt the familiar blush creep up on my face. "Yes," I answered shyly (though what was there to be shy about, the Lord only knows!). "I've always wanted to be on the Quidditch team and this year, since Oliver Wood is leaving, I thought I would try for the post of keeper."  
  
"That's great!" exclaimed Harry smiling at me, causing my heart to do a little flip-flop. "How will the keeper be selected?" he asked the twins.  
  
"There are going to be try-outs," said George.   
  
"Ginny, after dinner, why don't you show Harry some of the moves that you've been practicing?" asked my mother.   
  
It was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do for I was sure that with _him_ watching me I would not even be able to stay on the broom. Nevertheless, I nodded assent.   
  
So, after dinner we trooped outside, brooms in hand. I got on mine and flew towards the crudely constructed goal posts (made by Bill and Charlie long ago), successfully staying on my broom. Fred then flew up, a golf ball in his hand, and took his position. The others settled themselves around the pitch.   
  
_'Don't look down,'_ I told myself, but I couldn't help it. I **had** to see what _he_ was doing. _He_ was sitting next to Ron, and looked up just as I looked at him. He smiled and waved. I would have lost control of the broom and fallen off, hadn't Fred brought me back to my senses by saying "Ready, Get set, Go!" At the word 'Go!' he threw the ball and I stood there dumbly watching it pass through the goal post.  
  
"Ginny!" exclaimed Fred, surprised that I had missed such an easy throw.   
  
I did not want to look down and see the pity in _his_ eyes. _'You fool!' _ said the voice in my head. _ 'This is your chance to impress him and you stand there like a dolt! Show him what you're made of! Show him that Cho is not the only girl who can play Quidditch.'_   
  
That spurred me on and when Fred threw the next shot, I was ready. I managed to block all of his and George's shots. Then it was Harry's turn. I was a little nervous, but was determined to show him that I was as good as Cho (though in actual fact there was no comparison between us at all, since she was a seeker and I, a keeper).   
  
By keeping my eyes on the **ball** and not at the person who was throwing it, I managed creditably. And it was all worth it, when Harry congratulated me.  
  
"You were very good Ginny!" he said as we landed. "I think you have a very good chance of entering the team."  
  
I smiled happily. Maybe this year it would be different. Something might at last happen between Harry and me. But at that moment somebody happened to mention Cho and I saw Harry blush.  
  
Well, on the other hand, probably not. 

**DRACO**

  
  
I looked at the mirror. A pale boy with platinum blond hair, clear gray eyes, wearing a black dress robe made of velvet with silver lacing at the edges, stared back at me. In the middle, were two silver serpents, their bodies entwined, and their forked tongues sticking out.   
  
"Looking good," said the mirror.   
  
I made a face and turned away. I hated the dress which I was forced to wear. The thick velvet hung heavily on my body and stifled me. I felt a sudden urge to rip it apart…wrench it from my body…  
  
My mother entered. Her eyes ran over me appreciatively. "Your father will be proud," she said.   
  
I said nothing. She came towards me, holding a bracelet in her hand. She took my arm and clamped it around my wrist. It was a silver snake with an emerald in its eye. _Really! This passion for snakes!_   
  
Perhaps my mother noticed my expression of disgust, for she asked, concerned. "Is anything the matter, my child?"  
  
"No," I replied brusquely. After a minute I relented. "It really irks me that I have to wear dresses which are more suitable for females. And then being forced to pay my respects to a crotchety old man!" I looked up, wondering how she would take this description of Lord Voldemort.   
  
She smiled. "I understand, Draco. At your age you would naturally dislike being forced to do something that you don't want to…but you realise, don't you, what this means to your father?"  
  
"I just can't understand it! Why does father have to behave as if the Dark Lord is the Lord of the whole universe? His obsequiousness while talking to _him_, the way all the Death Eaters grovel before _him_…" I trailed off, unable to fully put in words what I felt. I had always seen my father, from childhood, being treated with deference, not only by the house-elves and other servants, but also by other witches and wizards. Wherever we went, the Malfoy name (and perhaps wealth) commanded respect, and I used to feel proud on seeing the way other people cringed and cowered before my father. I had never seen him bow down to anyone before. He spoke with a contemptuous drawl, which indicated that whoever he was speaking with, was not fit to even touch the sole of his shoe. But now, here he was, the one who had taught me that the Malfoys were better than any of the other wizarding families, fawning over the Dark Lord. It made me sick with disgust. It was as if everything I had been taught to believe in, was a lie. The image I had formed of him broke down as if it had never existed.   
  
Mother smiled understandingly. "You do not realise the power of the Dark Lord, Draco," she said. "If your father doesn't please him, you will be as Potter, bereft of parents." I stiffened at the mention of _Harry Potter,_ whom I considered the worst scum on earth. My mother leant forward and smoothed my hair. "We all have to make choices, Draco. Potter's parents made theirs, and the result- they died. Now you will have to make yours."   
  


*

"My son, Draco," said my father as I came into the room.  
  
A huge chandelier made of crystal hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room and right beneath it sat _Lord Voldemort._ Seated around him in a semi-circle were the Death Eaters. My father was on _his_ right.   
  
I entered and made my bow to _him_.  
  
"Come here, boy," _he_ said beckoning me with one long bony finger. I forced myself to walk forward. He lifted his hand and I tensed. I didn't want him touching me. The very thought repulsed me. Thankfully, he didn't. Instead he stared hard at me and I, wanting to prove that I wasn't in fear of him like the other Death Eaters, stared resolutely back at him thinking that there was nothing less human than the white face with scarlet eyes and slits for nostrils.   
  
"I think he will do, Lucius," said _Lord Voldemort_ at last.   
  
"I am glad he meets with your approval, My Lord," said my father.   
  
"I do not usually place any dependence on the ability of under-age wizards to carry on any task which I give successfully, but your father has told me about your deep devotion and desire to serve me so I have decided to make an exception in your case," said _Lord Voldemort_ looking at me with his scarlet eyes.   
  
I was confused. Deep devotion? Desire to please _him_?? What on earth was he talking about? Then I noticed my father glaring at me and realised that I was expected to say something.  
  
"Er..It will be my greatest pleasure..er..My Lord," I said. I winced as the words came out of my mouth. I sounded just like one of those toad-eating Death Eaters.   
  
But _He_ seemed pleased with my answer for he turned to father and said, "You have trained him well, Lucius."   
  
My father smiled. "Thank you, My Lord."  
  
"Now," _Lord Voldemort_ said turning towards me. "Listen to the instructions I give you carefully and obey them implicitly. Do you understand?"  
  
I nodded.   
  
"You are to become friendly with Miss Weasley."  
  
Miss who? I stared blankly for a moment and then it struck me- That miserable Ron Weasley's sister... what was her name? Ah, Ginny Weasley! A small, freckled, red-head…the one who had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Yes, I remembered her. I looked at _him_ wondering where Ginny Weasley came into the story.  
  
"Are you acquainted with her?" asked _Lord Voldemort_ watching me closely.   
  
I shook my head. "I don't associate with riff-raffs," I said contemptuously. I saw my father glance at _him_ apprehensively. Maybe he thought my tone insolent, but I didn't care. Fortunately the Dark Lord didn't either. He appeared to be amused rather.  
  
"Before the term ends, you must get to know her _very_ well." He smiled ( a painful spectacle, believe me). "And with your face, I'm sure it will not be very difficult." The Death Eaters laughed. I didn't know whether to fell offended or gratified.   
  
"So, is the task within your capacity?" he asked.  
  
I nodded, again. I seemed to be perpetually nodding.   
  
"Good. After making yourself acceptable to her, you will glean information from her. What information is needed will be told to you later." He paused. "Is that understood?"  
  
I was about to nod again, when I stopped myself and answered, "Yes."  
  
"You may leave."  
  
I bowed and went out.   
  


*

"You have done well, Draco," said my father. We were once agin seated in his study. The party was over and everybody (including the Dark Lord) had disapparated. "I must confess that there were moments when I thought it was the end, but thankfully disaster was averted."   
  
I stood silent, impatiently shifting from one foot to another. I wanted him to stop talking so that I could ask him about the Weasley matter. At last he stopped and I asked immediately, "What is all this about, father? Why do I have to befriend Ginny Weasley, of all people?"   
  
"The Dark Lord never explains himself, Draco," my father replied. "His wishes are our commands and they have to be obeyed without demur. Explanations may or may not be given, and they dare not be asked."  
  
I scowled. "But I don't even know her! And to top it all she is one of the Weasleys! One of the poorest wizarding families. Do you seriously want me to-"  
  
He held out a hand, silencing me. "Am I to take it that you wish to disobey the Dark Lord?"  
  
Yes, there was nothing I'd have liked better than to have demanded of 'Lord' Voldemort, _"Who are you to treat me as a slave?"_, but I couldn't very well say so, in front of my father. "No," I replied sullenly.   
  
"I didn't think so," said my father and left the room.   
  
I glared at his retreating back. _'Well, think of the bright side,'_ said a voice in my head. _'At least you will get Pansy off your hair.'_ Yes, getting friendly with Ginny Weasley would certainly spare me the annoying attentions of Pansy.   
  
'And,' I thought smiling maliciously, 'after getting the required information from her, I would take great pleasure in dumping Ron Weasley's sister.' 

* * *


End file.
